Beneath Heaven's Eyes
by lark lavroc
Summary: Naruto can only follow. [SasuNaru]. Companion piece to Heaven's Tears.


**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Naruto_, and I never will. This is just a hobby to keep me going while I despair over the events surrounding present canon.  
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A/N**: The companion piece to Heaven's Tears. The companion piece that should, in theory, never have been written, but my muse had other ideas. Unsurprisingly. This was written a while ago, but ended up floating on my hard drive before I (and **Moe**) was freed from the cages of university education.

As per usual, a thank you goes to **Moe** for keeping my mistakes to a minimum.

And a thank you to those who gave feedback on Heaven's Tears. It's nice to hear from readers every so often. It makes me feel as though I've actually done something productive! Rather than procrastinating from work. -coughs-

_Completed:_ 30/6/2005

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**beneath heaven's eyes**

Happiness didn't last.

You learned this very early in your life, when happiness didn't come often, if at all, and left just as quickly without a moment's notice. Without a moment's thought. You always wondered about that -- wondered about what-ifs and what-could-have-beens, and it always ended with images of him standing in front of you, smirking shakily because he never smiled at all since forever, which was about the amount of time you knew him, and he'd always been too arrogant to let you bask in your victory anyway -- but wondering wasn't the same as reality, and Iruka-sensei had been telling you to live in the Real World since Sasuke had left and you had woken up in the hospital, bandages curling around painfully sensitive skin and a forehead protector clutched tightly in your hand. Though, truthfully, that was probably the third thing Iruka-sensei had said when you'd first opened your eyes. The first had been a relieved smile and various syllables that you'd just assumed were meant to be happiness at your consciousness. You should have felt the warmth of his words then, but you'd just been cold. The second had been an anecdote or analogy of some sort -- you weren't the sharpest kunai in the village, so you hadn't been sure, but you still remembered the words. They had been dipped in mournful resignation and a tiredness that had seemed so strange on Iruka-sensei's familiar face. _Sometimes_, Iruka-sensei had said quietly, _people changed and not always for the better_. Iruka-sensei had always been proud of Sasuke, you knew, but he'd always put the village first too; this time was no different from the many times before, though you understood Iruka-sensei had his regrets.

You understood, but you hadn't agreed, so you'd remained silent even as your hand had tightened on the forehead protector. Sasuke had left it behind, and you hadn't wanted to lose it.

Sasuke was here.

He wasn't that far away now, and you'd been tracking him for years -- long enough to understand that he wasn't going any further for now, for this moment, and maybe forever. He was waiting for you just like he'd used to back when you'd been clumsy enough to trip over everything and anything, and he'd just stand there, arms crossed with the most annoyed glare on his face, and still -- still, he'd waited, and that had to count for something. That counted for a lot.

You sort of understood it had probably counted for everything you'd done until now.

Before then, before happiness had deserted you and you were cold even in the hot, sweltering summers, you'd know two true things. The first one had been ramen. You smiled slightly at that. The second had been Sasuke. And your smile drifted away, bit by bit.

It didn't matter if you'd wanted his attention then, or if that need turned to hatred when he wouldn't _see_ you. Sasuke had been the best student. Sasuke had been the best at _everything_, and somehow, you'd gotten the idea that if he saw something good in you then maybe the village would too, because, after all, Sasuke had been the _best_. The best, but maybe also just as lonely as you'd been. You'd seen that later, when your plan hadn't quite worked out the way you'd wanted it to, and you'd just wanted him to like you so much that it quickly turned to hate. He hadn't wanted to like you, and you'd been so angry that you'd decided that you didn't like him too.

You both didn't like each other for years until it became your world.

You were slowing down. You shouldn't be slowing down. You had your orders and you had your mission, and this was _Sasuke_. You couldn't allow your emotions to interfere with your work -- you couldn't allow yourself to be swayed by old memories and old emotions. You couldn't allow the face of a sad-eyed, lonely boy to replace the blood-drenched one in front of you.

You couldn't allow your dreams to interfere with your reality.

But still, you slowed. Still, you decreased the length of your strides until you weren't doing anything other than walking. Slowly, steadily, hesitantly.

It had been years since you saw him face to face. You'd seen the boy who left everything behind, you'd seen the messy, violently red aftermath of the youth who became someone else, but you'd never really seen him face on. You had never looked into his dark eyes since the day he left you.

You'd never really forgotten and you'll never forget, but you just wanted one last look -- one last glimpse of the boy who once would have never thought of leaving.

The forest was silent. There weren't any noises, not even the soft calls of night owls or the gentle rustle of leaves on a cold night, and even though you were moving quietly through the forest, you didn't feel alone. And you supposed that in a sense, you weren't really alone. You were heading towards the one person you had been trailing for years; whether he was the one you were looking for still remained to be seen, though you hoped for some hint -- some familiar expression. Just a small _something_ to wash away the memories you had never wanted.

You'd tried to convince yourself out of it. You'd even tried to find excuses, weak alternative maybes that were blasted away without much effort, and at last you gave up. You'd finally stopped doubting long enough for your heart to hurt when you'd looked upon the corpses Sasuke had left behind.

You hadn't cared about Orochimaru. You hadn't thought anyone would, but when you'd looked at the sad regret on Jiraiya's face and had seen the soft sigh coming from the Fifth's thinned lips, you'd known you were wrong. What you never understood was why. Why, why, why. You'd looked into what remained of Orochimaru's newest body and had only thought _good, I hope you go to hell_. But then, you'd thought about Sasuke and maybe you had sort of understood. You weren't going to admit that though, because then it would mean that Sasuke and Orochimaru were interchangeable, and it _just wasn't true_. It could never be true.

When you'd found Itachi's body, you had felt nothing. There had been no pity, no regret, and no sympathy for the heir who'd started it all, and you'd only stopped to send a message back to the village before you went on ahead, leaving the sightless corpse behind you, deep wounds where his Sharingan should have been and dark red gashes etched on pale skin. You'd made yourself focus on your surroundings, and tried not to think about Sasuke. But it had turned out to be hopeless as you reached the nearby village.

It had been deserted.

There had been bodies, _so many bodies_, littered throughout, with the gentle scent of life still clinging desperately to their skin. You'd felt sick for the first time.

You'd tried to convince yourself it was Orochimaru, Itachi -- anyone other than _him_. You'd even believed your own lies for a while too, until more bodies went in your way and you'd realised that Sasuke didn't care about those who'd gotten caught in his battle. He didn't care about who he'd killed as long as those he was after died in the end.

You thought that was when you would give up. You thought it was over -- everything was over -- and the boy you once knew was gone. You wouldn't ever see him again. _Give up, give up_, you'd thought.

It didn't work like that though, you'd soon realised. You couldn't forget him and you couldn't leave and you couldn't do anything but follow his tracks. His presence was like a pale shadow that haunted your every move, your every thought, and you'd been inflamed with a need to find him.

And that need had carried you to this -- this forest, these dark skies, devoid of any light, and the gradual pull of a presence you hadn't been so close to in years.

You went quietly, silently, and the distance between you shortened step by step. You saw the orange-yellow glow of a fire, darker than the sunset, but burning brightly in the dark. You were close, so very, very close -- and then you stopped, waited.

Nothing but the crackle of wood and the slow heat of wild flames.

Then, you heard a familiar voice, almost too soft for your ears to catch. "Naruto," he said.

You couldn't breathe; you tried to answer like he did, nonchalantly and casually cold, but you couldn't move your mouth. It didn't matter anyway. Nothing ever did when it was just the two of you.

You stepped forward and you looked into the face of a stranger.

He smiled at you, tilting his head slightly, as if nothing ever happened and you were just stopping by like you'd used to, offering no excuses but daring him to ask anyway.

You still couldn't speak.

There was a blur, all you could see was a stranger, and both of you were fighting like you had never before. You felt the first droplets of rain, cold to touch but as familiar as a dream you couldn't catch, and you realized just how appropriate it all was.

You thought of pain, of lying on the cold, wet ground, and it was dark, so cold, so dark, and then there was the gentle press of warmth, fleeting, though it seared and burned.

It was a dream you could never catch, and when the rain turned red, and you were falling, one hand holding onto a gash that poured out rivulets of blood, slowly emptying your body, all you wanted was that fleeting warmth.

You looked at him for once last time and watched him shudder, one hand clutching his left flank while his left eye remained shut and useless, and you didn't see a stranger anymore. You saw _him_, finally, and it was what you had been searching for, what you had been looking for.

He crawled towards you painfully, and it rained like soft tears sliding from his cheek down to yours, and you felt the fleeting warmth of his lips, the smooth curl of his eyelash, before you were surrounded by darkness.

It rained.


End file.
